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“I fear once I release you, you will fly.” He lifted her chin with one finger, but she did not look at him. His grip on her arm stayed any movement she intended. “I will not let you go under the threat of reality. Whether I escort you to your home or not, I demand an assurance—a token, if you will, that I have not dreamed this entire night.”
“I have no such token,” she said quietly, all too aware of what gentlemen usually wanted as a forfeit. At the same time, she knew he would never harm her.
“Since I have no scissors for a lock of your hair, I must exact my talisman from what is available to me.” He lifted her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. She remembered how amazing she felt the first time he had done so, even though nine years had passed. Her heart once again skipped a beat.
She made her body relax. The tension eased and they stood alone and silent, as she planned. “You now have your talisman. If you free me, I will not run away, but you must keep your distance.”
She waited and he reluctantly released his grip on her, a reminder of the haven she had once known and had thrown away.
“I cannot remain, Mr. Dalton. I have already been here awhile.”
“You promised you would not leave if I let go of your arm.”
“So I did. However, my military training tells me I must say anything to obtain my freedom from an unknown assailant.”
He chuckled again. “I think you know I will not harm you. Otherwise, you would have run the instant you were free.”
“For some reason, I believe all thatchgallows say that to women who are alone in the middle of the night.”
“Your instincts are sound. May I point out, however, that was I planning to pillage and plunder, I surely would have done so by now.”
“Yes, but your army has already been found wanting once this night. And perhaps I should have warned you from the first—I am armed.”
“Ah, yes, it is in the military codebook that if you are armed, you must so inform your assailant. May I ask with what are you armed?”
“If you knew my weapon, I would be at a complete disadvantage.”
“You need not tell me. I have figured it out on my own. You are hiding a canon under your cloak. There, am I right?”
“My goodness, are you the last of your army?” He laughed again and she realized that even nine years later, she still missed his laugh.
“Who are you, my delight? Please give me your name and where I may call on you. I was extremely fearful this would be the dullest fortnight I have had to date. I believe you relieve me of my fear.” He bent his head, trying to see her face beneath her hood.
“I am afraid I must go. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dalton.”
“Wait, give me your name, anything! When will I see you again?”
“I shall be elusive, and I shall be ever present.”
“Say you will come again tomorrow night. This same time.”
What was she doing? She was trying to recreate their past, only as more seasoned participants. She would be careful, she told herself. She would keep her cloak close around her. “Till tomorrow, then. Now I must go.”
Turning, she ran as fast as her ragged breathing would allow. Afraid he would follow her, she ran straight for the small copse of trees, fading into its dark tentacles and finally stopping against one of Sussex’s wide oaks to listen for the sound of his approach.
She stood quietly for several seconds trying to still her pounding heart, and soon grew confident that no footfalls or hoofbeats trailed her. After waiting a number of minutes, willing her breathing to slow, she turned toward the manor and began her walk back. She was overjoyed and saddened by an all-new taste of life she knew would never pass her way again. God had not forgiven her for her mistake. Why not add another to the list?
She would spend one more evening in his company, and then she would truly disappear.
Back in her room, she stared at herself in her tarnished mirror and it all came flooding back. As she lay down in her bed, tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes and dampened the pillow. Not only was she ruined beyond reparation and unwelcome in her own home, but she would be shunned should she seek help from any of her family or friends in London. No one would countermand her father’s orders.
She had told Lord Dalton the truth. He would never see her again. Tomorrow she would don the trappings that grew more burdensome each day but made her unrecognizable to those in her previous circles. There had been no other option after she was abandoned by the rogue. She was alone and needed to make her own way in the world. But she could not do so as herself. She would disguise the beauty Lord Dalton saw tonight with the accoutrements of a dowdy wig, a pair of spectacles and lumbering shoes. Lady Kathryn would become clumsy and drab Miss Kate Montgomery, the hired companion of the daughter of the house.
And until tonight, that had been enough.
* * *
He came upon the bridge while allowing Merlin a drink of water, and he was mesmerized. It was uncanny. She reminded him of someone, though he could not think of whom. In the moonlight, he watched her pace up and down the bridge, assuming some kind of inner struggle, only to relax again and take in deep breaths of the night air. Her hood was farther back, and she had a beautiful profile in the light of the moon.
Dalton watched, bemused, as she ran from him. He knew any attempt to catch her up would be foiled by her own avowal of a deep knowledge of the terrain. He stood solitary for several moments, a bit perplexed. What had come over him? He did not accost women he did not know. Perhaps accost was too strong a word, but something struck a chord with her. Was it her unsettled spirit? Her beauty? He hoped to find out at their next meeting.
He returned to the inn and lay awake a long time. It had been years since anyone had affected him so immediately...nine years, to be precise.
It had been his third Season and he’d only gone back to please his parents; he was ready for the army.
But he had met Kathryn—Lady Kathryn—and was very soon caught. She was young and in her first Season, but she was so different from the usual debutantes that flooded London each spring.
She was beautiful, so beautiful she took his breath away. Would he ever forget those eyes? He feared not. They were sapphire-blue. And he could see into her very soul through them. Her raven hair was thick and luxurious and her skin creamy, with a little bronze from the sun. But even had she not been so beautiful, he believed he still would have sought her out. She was selfless and intelligent. She smelled wonderful. They never tired of talking; they were so much in tune with each other’s thoughts. And her heart belonged to God. They talked of Scripture for hours.
Many of his happiest memories were the ones when they had waltzed. It was the only time they were allowed to touch, and her touch was so calm and gentle. And in a dance, it was her gracefulness that swept him away. She floated in his arms, and he had begun to fall in love with her in only two short months.
And he had thought, at the time, that she felt the same. He need only wait for the proper time after speaking to her father. He would give up thoughts of the army and take up a profession that she would be proud of—one that would not keep them apart.
But she left him. He looked for her at every ball. He scanned the boxes for her at the opera. He would have set up camp on her doorstep, only the knocker had been removed and no one answered. He finally wrote to her father at Montgomery Hall, but received no response. He was only too happy then to buy his commission, and to this day, he carried a deep scar that kept him from trusting another woman completely.
Dalton repositioned his pillow, reminding himself yet again that the past was the past, and he must now marry and beget an heir.
He had been trained to judge the character of others quickly in his position as a major in Wellington’s army. But in the Little Season he had only just left behind, he still doubted his ability to judge a woman. She had left him that curse.
And he knew not how he was to marry if he compared every woman to Kathryn. There had been no doubt in his mind that her feelings for him were as strong. He believed she, too, was falling in love. He had never misjudged someone so completely. It had not been so, and now he thought he could not marry for love. His heart was battered. He would wed based on credentials alone and pray that God would provide the companionship necessary to make the marriage work. He felt sure there was an eligible candidate, but he dreaded the search.
Heavenly Father, I know You will bring the woman You have for me in Your perfect timing. Please give me the patience to wait for her and for eyes centered on You to see her.
Yet before falling asleep, his last thoughts were of a waif in the moonlight, a winsome fairy who had taken his fancy.
* * *
“He will be here any moment. I demand you send Lacey elsewhere and help me complete my toilette!”
It was the next morning, and Kathryn heard Charity stomp her foot like a schoolgirl even though she could not actually see it. The talk had been of nothing but Lord Dalton for the past fortnight. She almost became sick of hearing his name until meeting him again last night on the bridge.
She had gone for one of her walks. She discovered after a few weeks in Trotton that could she shed her disguise even for an hour, she could bear the unwieldy trappings imposed on her by her own past actions. Once Charity was through with her for the evening, and usually only once a week, she would wait until the moon was high in the sky and take a solitary walk as herself.
She wore a voluminous cloak to cover her full appearance, but she had never really needed it until last night. She carried a small pistol her father had commissioned just for her. But no crime had come to the little town of Trotton for years, so she had not needed that, either. And she never saw another living soul at that time of night. Tales of goblins and trolls died hard in the Weald, and the Rother River Bridge was the source of many of those tales.
She was brought back to the present with another angry cry from Charity. “I believe you are not listening to me!”
Kathryn always tried to remain gentle and soft-spoken with her charge, but at times it was nearly impossible. “Charity, do try for a little decorum. No gentleman of fashion would arrive before noon.” That was the truth, but she did not understand Lord Dalton’s delay, as he was housed so close to the manor.
“You look quite nice in your apricot muslin, so I do not see how I may add anything to your appearance.”
“Nice...nice...?” The young beauty before Kathryn balled her fists in a spoiled rage. “I think I look quite stunning in this gown!”
Kathryn heaved a sigh of resignation. “Charity, you must stop puffing yourself up. It does you no good and will surely put Lord Dalton off.”
With her eyes closed in frustration, Kathryn wished she could get a message to Lord Dalton to flee for his life. She would not wish a fortnight of Charity upon him for any reason!
No, she must stop that line of thinking. She no longer knew him and had no right to determine what or whom he might like...despite their past.
She had desired nothing more than the darkness last night, a few moments of freedom. But today, despise it as she might, she was never more happy for the anonymity her masquerade brought her.
Her past mistake had haunted her for nine years, and she was no longer free to be Lady Kathryn. She was unwanted in London’s elite world, and she must support herself now. She had learned years ago that it was only possible if Lady Kathryn disappeared and Miss Kate Montgomery took her place—a wig, a pair of spectacles and unwieldy shoes her only protection. She accepted her responsibility and the following consequences of her own mistake. She would not cry and complain of injustice; she would not grow into a bitter, angry woman. She accepted her punishment. She had made her bed, now she must lie in it.
She was presently in the nursery visiting with the younger members of the household. Charity’s little sister chimed in, bringing Kathryn back to the present. “I am not vain, am I Miss Montgomery?” the child asked. She had adored Kathryn since the moment of her arrival, and it had become a mutual admiration very quickly.
Conversely, Charity had disdained Kathryn since the day she arrived. She flatly stated she had no need of a companion to teach her about the ton, and discarded Kathryn as she did all things for which she had no need.
Upon his return from London one month ago, Sir John Dinsmore, Charity’s father, declared he had invited no less a personage than Lord Dalton to the manor. “Zounds, my dear, zounds,” he had informed his wife. “The reputation of our stables has reached even to London! Even to London, upon my soul.”
There had been little peace since.
She knew Sir John thought himself quite the strategist. Only four months ago, Lady Dinsmore had hired Kathryn as a companion to Charity. Her parents had finally accepted that as beautiful as their daughter might be, she had been spoiled for so long that they feared the girl’s manners might hinder the possibility of an advantageous marriage. Even Lady Dinsmore could not be more excited. “Only think of it, Kate,” said the lady when they were alone. “An unmarried earl under our roof for a fortnight. What a singular opportunity for our Charity!”
She spoke in a sterner voice to her daughter. “I am sure Miss Montgomery has mentioned that you must not seem too eager when the earl arrives. There is no doubt he will notice you straightaway, but he will wish to know you better should you behave the least bit...evasive.”
Kathryn wondered if Lord Dalton’s military training had prepared him for the challenge that awaited him in Charity Dinsmore! Even as she wondered how she would be able to bear the next fortnight. He would be in the same house; she would know he was near, but more than likely she would have no contact with him at all.
Why did the idea hurt so after all this time?
Chapter Two
Kathryn felt that she would never be able to concentrate today, but her practical heart had not failed her.
Sleep, however, had been another matter entirely, and had evaded her all night. Over and over again she relived Lord Dalton’s words and actions. He held her as gently as a porcelain doll, but she was no less fettered. He spoke several times as if he could read her mind. And his kiss on her bare hand had been so very tender. To dwell on it again would only prolong the agony she thought had ended long ago. And yet she could not refuse him when he asked her to come again.
Thoughts of the past rushed through her mind. She had done the unthinkable—she had eloped. Almost from the time they could walk, young women were taught the importance of keeping a spotless reputation in the eyes of the ton. The two quickest ways to lose that invaluable status were simple: to be alone in the company of a single gentleman or to elope.
She was young and gullible and Lord Salford had swept her off her feet. The feelings she’d had for Lord Dalton caused her to hesitate; how could her heart have changed so quickly? But Lord Salford knew what he was doing. He said that Lord Dalton had not complimented her enough. He had not demanded her company or declared her his only happiness. Lord Dalton was going to leave to go into the army and was only dallying with her affections. Looking back on it now, it was easy to see that Lord Dalton had been the truer gentleman, recognizing her youth and protecting her from the gossips.
But in the end it did not matter. Lord Salford said if he could not have her, he would die of a broken heart. Then he told her they must elope, as she was underage. Romantic thoughts disappeared. Indeed, she was horrified! She would be eighteen in a few months; why could they not wait until then? Why did he not go to her father and ask his permission? She was sure he would give it, though he might want her to wait those few months. No, Lord Salford said, her father would try to make her believe he was not good enough for her.
So they had traveled to Gretna Green to be married. She knew it was wrong; she wanted no part of it, but Lord Salford had been relentless and she was too young to see his actions as proof that he was not a gentleman. They spent four endless days on the road, only stopping to change horses and eat. The trip alone should have opened her eyes. Lord Salford had ridden alongside the coach for much of the time, and came inside at night to sleep. He was uncommunicative and sullen, offering none of the endearments he had generously doled out the previous few weeks. He feared her father would discover their intent and would follow them to stop the marriage. She was afraid to tell him she had left a note for her father explaining her actions. It would never occur to her to just disappear!
When they got to Scotland and Salford discovered that she did not come into possession of her fortune at eighteen, he left her. He never married her, and he abandoned her with only her pin money from last quarter. She found herself desolate in a strange country after traveling days in a carriage alone with Salford. She had done both of the things that would tarnish a young woman’s name.
Her ruination had been complete.
Even her father could not forgive her, so he cast her off. And only a few short months later, Kathryn decided God could not forgive her, either. Life had become one unanswered prayer after another until she rarely sought Him anymore. She believed it made her stronger, but she missed the comfort and peace God had always given her.
Now she was to keep Charity in some semblance of proper behavior during Lord Dalton’s visit.
“Oh, why does he not come? I am so bored I could scream. I should have accepted Harry Bolton’s offer to go for a drive today. Now I am quite sorry I did not.”
Kathryn sighed in frustration. “Charity, I am all out of patience with you. The past two weeks you have been anxious and overwrought. It will not bring him here sooner. I have told you again and again that a man of Lord Dalton’s stamp will expect and prefer a properly behaved young woman, not one prone to go into a fit of the dismals.”
Charity appeared to take her advice to heart as an hour later Kathryn sat in the window embrasure of the drawing room, as she always did during tea. Charity sat before the tea tray looking beautiful and demure. If only it had been natural and not by design.
Kathryn had gone to her room to freshen up, and once again sat in front of her mirror seeing a stranger. How she wished she could meet Lord Dalton without hiding behind her mask. It was impossible, of course, for many reasons. She knew he must despise her for what she had done to him. He would not be happy to see her. More importantly, she could not bear to see the pity on his face if he recognized her. She could avoid her previous life with her disguise. She could not bear it should he discover her identity and turn his back on her.
She came back to the present and watched young Lacey as she very slowly and meticulously carried an overfull cup of tea to her. “You are doing splendidly, sweetheart,” she whispered. Lacey was starved for affection in the most pitiable way. She was sadly neglected, though Kathryn found her eager and willing to learn everything she could.
She was almost upon her with the cup of tea when the door opened and the butler announced in a deep baritone, “Sir John, Lord Dalton has called.”
Kathryn’s eyes sought the earl’s face of their own volition, and she felt a nostalgic wish in her heart that it was she in Charity’s place.
The teacup, so lovingly carried, rolled awkwardly across the carpet and a horrified gasp was the only sound heard upon this stentorian announcement. Kathryn’s quiet assurance directed at the disconcerted Lacey was the only thing that kept the self-conscious child from fleeing the room in tears.
“Jarvis frightened me, Miss Montgomery,” whispered the dismayed little girl.
“Indeed he did, Lacey. It is of no matter, for we will clean it up momentarily.” Kathryn discreetly bent to mop up part of the spill with her napkin as Sir John shifted his eyes from the small disaster to the man now coming toward him. Kathryn sensed Lord Dalton’s awareness of the situation and appreciated that he did not draw even more attention to Lacey.
It made her remember his kindness. He was a more mature version of her Lord Dalton, but his characteristics appeared to be intact. She decided she could not be responsible for her wayward thoughts while he was with them.
* * *
“Dalton, my boy, welcome, welcome!” Sir John stepped forward in obvious exuberance, hand outstretched in greeting. “Told the ladies you and I had agreed upon no specific time of arrival, so we have begun tea as usual. Apologize profusely, my boy.”
Lord Dalton entered the salon that seemed full of staring eyes. He realized that the two young children and one young girl were quite obviously Sir John’s progeny. There was also a lady of indeterminate age sitting by the window, but based on her appearance she was not a guest.
His quick observations did not show in his expression. He greeted his host graciously in return. “Sir John, I am honored. Please feel no dismay over beginning your tea. More to the point, I must apologize to your lady for my late arrival. I had no wish to upset your schedule further, so as you see, I have presented myself in all my dirt. Do forgive me, please.”
He could not tell them about this morning’s pursuit. He had begun his search for the woman of last night at the inn and hoped to have her direction by noon. Though she said she would return tonight, he wished to be prepared. He wanted her name and where she lived. His old tendencies in the army died hard.
His efforts had been fruitless. Three hours later he had not uncovered one clue. The vacant expressions on the faces of the people he talked to were easily verified as truth and not an attempt to protect one of their own. Yes, he had seen her only by the light of the moon, but he was no young buck allowing romantic settings to invent what did not exist. Her beauty, though seen only in shadows, had been unmistakable even without a clear description of her features. But there had been the rub. He could give no one that description.
Such defeat only made him more determined. She would not disappear as Kathryn had. He would not allow it a second time.
She was a lady, of that he had no doubt. He might speculate on the reasons that brought her to the bridge in the middle of the night, but he was determined to find out why.
To own the truth, he chuckled at himself. Having no luck finding her among the locals, he realized that her status as a lady might not be known to them. He decided he would question Sir John’s household as to her name and whereabouts.
He also began second-guessing his leading from God. He was attracted to her and clearly felt he was to know her, an instinct telling him he might already know her, even while acknowledging that was impossible.
His mother had advised him to avail himself of Sir John’s offer for a few weeks. He needed to accept what was due to his family name by finding a wife and setting up his nursery. But those he met during his short time in London seemed no more than schoolgirls only just out of their own nurseries! His mother suggested he stop trying to shop for a wife and let love come naturally.
He would not rest on his laurels as he could in Town. But women flocked to him in London, though he hated it. He need only pick one, yet not one had touched a chord in his heart. So he had taken his mother’s advice to visit Sir John.
Here in Trotton, the delight he felt on the bridge when the fairy responded to his banter made him think that love might come naturally, after all. He would meet her tonight, then await an opportunity to know her in the daylight. He would try to overcome his fear that he would not be able to judge her character accurately.
